


He has Risen

by spun809



Series: Supernatural 30 day Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Day 2, Drabble, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, supernatural challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spun809/pseuds/spun809
Summary: You are the first person Dean sees after crawling out of his own grave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble for Day 2 of the Supernatural Challenge the prompt is Favorite Episode. Mine has to be 4x01 Lazarus Rising, so here is a little fic about it.

The knocking on the door was so persistent it was shaking loose bits of plaster in the ceiling of the shitty apartment I had been camping out for the last four months, ever since the thing with Dean, and if I could hear his voice saying, “Open up,” well that was to be expected. The pounding seemed to echo like I was standing at the bottom of well, bouncing around off the bare walls, the lack of furniture didn’t help at dulling the noise. It was something the real Dean would do too, he had always been so persistent in his attempts at getting my attention. 

His death was more than tragic, it was the most traumatic thing that had ever happened, watching him writhing on the floor drenched in blood and torn apart. Worse than anything I had seen hunting, or maybe I only felt that way because I had been the victim that was losing the love of my life. I pretty much split after that. Driving away from the broken little suburb, until I hit the ocean, walking out into the surf wanting to see something that couldn’t remind me of him. Though the way the sunlight hit the water gave it a certain tint that was the same exact shade of Dean’s eyes. The ones I had watched lose their spark as he took his last breath.

Before I had felt some kind of loyalty to Sam he had been like a little brother to me growing up. In the hunter life you didn’t ever get to hang out with other kids for long, but my dad and John would go off together and so I got to know the Winchesters. Or even Bobby, he was like a father to me, he used to ruffle my hair when I would come complain about how Dean or Sam wouldn’t let me play cops and robbers, telling me, “they just know you can kick their butts.” Dean he had always been more, so much more, but after watching him choking on his own blood it was enough, I was done looking for demons or monsters. I didn’t care that Sam might be broken at losing a brother or Bobby who felt like he’s lost a son. Mine, mine was worse, he had been my soulmate. 

Going over all the events of his death still didn’t change the fact that someone was here now, and they wanted to see me. There hadn’t been many visitors to my place either, the remaining Winchester seemed to respect that I needed time to myself and maybe he needed his own space to mourn. Singer well, I think he may have called, my cell used to ring but I stopped charging it after the constant reminders of Dean were still there every time I turned it on to haunt me. I couldn’t delete the messages or the pictures so I just left it a dark black these days. 

Still the pounding, if whoever it was didn’t calm down they were going to break something, then I would be stuck paying that rent collecting douche extra. 

“Hey I am coming chill out.” Ripping open the door I felt my lungs collapse. 

The smile was only marred by the smudge of dirt on his left cheek, but in-spite of looking dirty all over it was the same Dean you knew, it was him before a Hellhound chewed him like a tennis ball. Even through all the dust on his jacket, you recognized the green coat he was buried in. It was some sort of sick joke. 

“Doesn’t look like your coming.” His smirk widened. 

Normally you would have rolled your eyes lovingly at the double entendre but it couldn’t be him. Maybe it had his voice, and his style but it was something else. Even though I would have sold my soul, trust me I tried, to have him back; I couldn’t afford to get all swept up in nostalgia, because it had to be a demon or shapeshifter using this meatsuit as a ploy to rip out my guts. Or maybe I had finally gone insane with grief, but it wasn’t real. I knew it couldn’t be. 

Pulling my flask off the table by the door I flung water onto his face, but no smoke, no sizzle of flesh. He just wiped the water out of his eyes which I forced myself not to notice were exactly the same shade of green they had been when I kissed him the first time. Grabbing the knife out of the back of waistband, the metal had become warm from where it constantly sat against my lower back, I sliced. The blade grazing the edge of his bicep but nothing. 

He grabbed the place where the blood was welling up, “I am not a monster, its me.” 

“Dean, how? I saw you die, I held you.” Tears dripped onto the material of the t-shirt I had decided to wear, it was fitting that it had been Dean’s favorite. 

I let myself sink into the feeling when he wrapped me up in those arms. I couldn’t bring myself to focus on the fact that he didn’t have an answer, he was back that was all that really mattered.


End file.
